


take my hand, wreck my plans

by zukkababey



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Zuko (Avatar), Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Post-Canon, Post-War, Running Away, This is a happy story, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, the angst really isn't that bad it lasts for like a second i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29056011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zukkababey/pseuds/zukkababey
Summary: Uncle Iroh had sounded so sure when he’d told Zuko that he had to return to the Fire Nation to assume the throne when Ozai was defeated. Zuko had tried to take some of that confidence on himself at the time, but now, as Zuko thinks about what’s going to happen next, he only feels a sick sense of dread.The war is over, and now Zuko’s going to be Fire Lord. That’s his destiny—there’s no escaping it.Sokka, however, has other plans.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 63
Kudos: 314





	take my hand, wreck my plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crosspin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crosspin/gifts).
  * Inspired by ['Til the Gravity's Too Much.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26921209) by [crosspin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crosspin/pseuds/crosspin). 



> For Megan. Happy (early) birthday! This story would not have gotten finished without your constant cheerleading and support. I hope you enjoy ❤️
> 
> As you can see, this story is inspired by 'Til the Gravity's Too Much., meaning it takes place in the same universe as that fic. Think of Megan’s fic like a prequel, of sorts. I urge all of you to take a moment to read it before reading this, because not only is it beautiful writing, it will help this story make a bit more sense. 
> 
> If you don't want to, then here's what you need to know: Sokka and Zuko are in an established relationship (they got together after going to the Boiling Rock). There is a certain tent scene where they profess their love to one another, then Sokka asks Zuko to be his boyfriend. As part of that request, Sokka gives Zuko his whalebone necklace.
> 
> (But please, _please_ go read Megan's fic. It's absolutely gorgeous.)
> 
> Title comes from 'willow' by Taylor Swift, which this story is very heavily inspired by. I hate to give you even more homework, but [listening to the song beforehand](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7EvwIw4gIyk) really sets the correct ~vibes~ so I'd recommend it!
> 
> Enjoy! 😊❤️

It’s hard to breathe.

Zuko’s chest feels altogether too tight, too small, barely big enough to pull in a decent breath. The smell of burned flesh is overwhelming, bringing him right back to another night where he’d stood opposite a family member, fire sparking along fingertips.

As Zuko blinks up at the fading red sky, he supposes that he technically won this Agni Kai, but it feels less like a victory and more like a hollow, echoing defeat.

He still doesn’t know if Aang has defeated his father, or if Sokka, Toph, and Suki were able to take down the Fire Nation air fleet. Agni, _Sokka._ For all he knows, they could be dead. The Earth Kingdom could be conquered. The war finally complete.

The fight between him and Azula suddenly feels so insignificant, so childish and petty. Aang is a skilled fighter, and Zuko taught him everything he knows, but he’s going toe to toe with what might be the most powerful man in the world. Sokka, Toph, and Suki were planning on infiltrating a string of Fire Nation airships. Are they okay? The thought of Sokka hurt—of _any_ of them hurt—makes his chest ache more than it already is, so he shoves those thoughts away with a wince.

“Sorry,” Katara says, her hands moving gently with the water she’s using to heal his chest. “Did I hurt you?”

The thought of Katara being worried that she hurt him when she’s _healing him_ is almost enough to make Zuko laugh. He stops himself, knowing that it would only jar the wound on his chest even more.

“No,” Zuko rasps. “It doesn’t hurt.”

For a moment, Zuko thinks that Katara might drop it, but then she fixes him with a knowing look, and he figures it was only wishful thinking on his part. “You’re thinking about Sokka.”

Zuko sighs. “Aren’t you thinking about Aang?”

“Of course I am,” she says, focusing back on her hands. Her eyebrows furrow minutely as she does something complicated with her fingers, and the pain in Zuko’s chest eases slightly. “I’m thinking about Sokka, too. And Toph, and Suki. About all of them. I have to believe that they’re okay, or else–” she cuts herself off, blinking rapidly. “Or else…” Her gaze flickers to the side and she loses focus; the water wrapped around her hands falls to splash against Zuko’s chest, soaking what’s left of his tattered clothes. The water is cold where it meets his overheated skin, and he hisses. “Shit,” she whispers harshly to herself, quickly bending the water out of Zuko’s ruined outfit.

Zuko wraps a hand around Katara’s wrist—it’s only then he realizes how hard she’s shaking.

Katara bends the water back into the flask at her hip, meeting Zuko’s gaze with her own, heavy and meaningful. “When you jumped in front of that lightning strike… It was just like what Azula did to Aang. I thought that you—I thought I was going to have to tell _Sokka_ …” she trails off, and Zuko finally lets go of Katara’s wrist, swallowing thickly.

“I’m okay,” Zuko says.

“You’re not,” Katara replies, looking back down to the blistering skin of his chest. “Don’t get me wrong, it could have been a lot worse, but Zuko… this is going to take weeks—if not months—to heal.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He’ll have to be, if he’s going to be Fire Lord at the end of this. The fact sits heavily in the pit of his stomach.

Uncle Iroh had sounded so sure when he’d told Zuko that he had to return to the Fire Nation to assume the throne when Ozai was defeated. Zuko had tried to take some of that confidence on himself at the time, but now, as Zuko thinks about what’s going to happen next, he only feels a sick sense of dread.

He doesn’t want to be Fire Lord. He used to crave the power and respect of the crown when he was young and naïve. And then later, he was so consumed with rage and shame and finding the Avatar that he’d never stopped to consider that he’s still a teenager. It was only after he joined the gang that he realized there was so much to do, to explore, to see.

Zuko had travelled for years searching for the Avatar, and then some more with his new friends, but never without the ever-looming threat of the war. If the Hundred Year War is truly over tonight, ruling the Fire Nation is the very last thing Zuko wants to do.

“You _will_ be fine,” Katara says, snapping Zuko back to the moment. “Eventually.”

Her forehead wrinkles in a way that’s so reminiscent of Sokka when he’s upset that Zuko finds himself managing a wry smirk. “You’re not going to make _me_ be the optimistic one, right? Because that would be depressing for both of us.”

Katara’s expression smooths out, and it feels more like a victory to Zuko than the events of this evening. “I’d pay a lot of gold pieces to see _you_ be the optimistic one,” she says, the corner of her mouth lifting.

Zuko opens his mouth to respond, but then his chest seizes painfully. With a sharp groan, he curls into himself, the movement somehow exacerbating and easing the discomfort at the same time. The surface of his skin burns in a way that he told himself he’d never have to feel again—all at once, he feels like he might throw up.

Katara shuffles closer, knees scraping against the stone beneath them. Zuko can just make out the worried set of her eyes through the hair that’s fallen into his eyes.

“Zuko, here, let me–” The cold hands on his arm are more than welcome as she slowly helps him sit up, but then they’re gone, her attention captured by something across the courtyard.

“What is it?” Zuko asks, trying to follow her gaze, but he’s relying too heavily on his left eye to see much of anything. “Azula?”

“No,” Katara replies immediately. “It’s not her. This is…” she pauses, as if searching for the right word, but eventually she settles on, “different.”

Whatever it is must be getting closer, because Zuko starts to feel the rumble of the ground beneath him, rhythmic and pounding. Smaller pebbles begin to rattle against the stone, moving so quickly they look as if they’re vibrating.

“Come on.” Katara tugs on Zuko’s arm, pulling him to his feet quickly but gently, making sure not to wrench Zuko’s chest in her haste.

Zuko stands unsteadily, leaning on Katara more heavily than he’d like to admit. She says nothing as she wraps an arm around his waist, giving him much needed support, which he takes gratefully. They watch the clearing for whatever is approaching them—is it a Fire Nation tank? Did Azula somehow alert the army of Zuko’s presence? If this devolves into a fight, Zuko can say definitively that he and Katara will not be on the winning side.

Zuko holds his breath, Katara’s fingers clutching the sash that’s tied around Zuko’s waist. He’s not sure if it’s more to comfort him or herself.

They watch and they wait, and then–

A giant eel hound turns the corner, its head peeking out from behind a distant building, looking away and then back, zoning in on Zuko and Katara. In a single bound, the rest of its long body moves into view, tail swishing. Along the hound’s back sits two familiar figures, and–

Wait—two?

Sokka had been the one guiding the eel hound before they left for the airship base off the coast of the Earth Kingdom, Zuko is sure of it. He and Sokka had already said their goodbyes before that moment, but Zuko remembers meeting Sokka’s eyes and thinking _this better not be the last time I see him._ In Sokka’s returning nod had been a _I’ll be okay_ and _see you soon._

But Zuko can’t see him now—Suki is the one holding the reins, Toph’s black hair peeking out from over her shoulder. Is Sokka—Did he…

No.

Zuko refuses to believe it.

The eel hound comes to a stop several feet away, lithe legs bending to let off its passengers. Toph is the first one with her feet on the ground, quickly shifting into an earthbending stance. A crack, and then the familiar roar of tearing earth fills Zuko’s ears; she rises slowly atop a stone pillar, then holds out a hand in the general direction of the carrier once she’s high enough.

“Hop aboard, Snoozles.”

 _Snoozles?_ Zuko’s sure his heartbeat triples in speed from the nickname alone.

From below, Zuko can’t see much, but then a low grunt sounds, and Sokka’s head appears, face ashen and pinched with pain. Zuko’s heart _lurches._

Sokka seems to be clutching something in one hand, but Zuko can’t make out what it is; with the other, Sokka takes Toph’s proffered hand. Once Sokka steps onto the cylinder, Toph slowly sinks them back to the ground. Suki gracefully dismounts from the hound’s back, meeting them at the bottom.

“Sokka!” Katara cries, throwing herself into Sokka’s arms. Zuko teeters precariously without Katara there to hold him up, but he manages to stay on his feet. He doesn’t think it’s only the lack of support that’s making him feel dizzy.

Sokka’s _alive._ He’s okay.

Sokka wobbles from the sheer force of Katara’s hug, but Toph’s quick yank pulls him back to his feet—or, foot, Zuko should say. He finally notices the way Sokka is favouring his left foot, which is wrapped tightly in bandages. He’s hugging Katara with one arm, the other leaning on what looks like a makeshift metal cane—Toph’s handiwork, no doubt.

Katara finally pulls back, then crushes both Toph and Suki into a hug. “I’m so glad you guys are okay!”

She keeps on talking, probably asking questions about what happened and where Aang is. Zuko tunes it all out. None of them look as if Aang is dead, which only means one thing—Aang won. He defeated his father.

Zuko swallows. If this was the outcome Zuko had wanted, why does a part of him feel like he just lost?

He meets Sokka’s gaze from across the courtyard and takes an involuntary step forward.

“Spirits, _Zuko,_ ” Sokka whispers, and then he’s moving too, wincing with every step.

They fall into each other, holding each other tight, fingers clutching anywhere they can grab. Zuko’s chest screams in agony, his entire body feeling rough and cramped. Sokka cuts through it all like a knife, bundling Zuko up and letting him melt into his arms. That feeling alone is better than any remedy Katara could give him.

Eventually, Zuko pulls back, but only to hold Sokka’s jaw gently in both hands, kissing him hard. It’s what they both need right then, something to ground them in the moment, in the fact that they’re both here, _alive,_ back in each other’s arms. Sokka swipes a thumb along the edge of Zuko’s scar, tilting his head until the kiss turns into something softer, sweeter.

“I was so worried–”

“I thought I’d never see you again–”

“I’m okay–”

“Me too–”

Zuko’s not quite sure who says what, but the sentiments are the same—they’re here, they’re together, they’re alive. After a hundred years of fighting, the war is finally over. It’s done.

Zuko would wonder why the thought only fills him with dread, but he knows the reason. He’s going to be the next Fire Lord. This is what he wanted, he knows, but he can’t summon the excitement he’d once felt about assuming the throne. All he can think about is the boy in his arms and how they never _talked_ about this.

They talked about _them._ Zuko remembers their night in the tent all too well and looks back on it often with fondness. He knows that he loves Sokka, and he knows that Sokka loves him back. The weight of Sokka’s necklace against his throat is proof enough of that.

As if following the same thought, Sokka’s hand moves to cradle the back of Zuko’s head. His palm brushes against the necklace, his thumb gently pressing the whalebone into the skin of his neck as if to assure himself that Zuko’s heart is still beating underneath. Sokka exhales shakily, leaning forward to press his lips to Zuko’s temple. Zuko’s eyes slide shut at the sensation, feeling as if he’s finally home. They both made it out alive, if not unscathed.

Zuko knows that Sokka loves him. He knows that he loves Sokka. He’d walk to the edges of the _earth_ for Sokka. But in the whirlwind of teaching Aang firebending, following Sokka to the Boiling Rock, and the multiple life or death situations they’ve found themselves in, they never talked about _after._ Their entire relationship was forged in a time of chaos and bravery, and they never really got around to talking about what might happen between them when—if—they won the war.

But the decision’s already been made, hasn’t it? Uncle had told Zuko that he was the only one that could restore honour to the Fire Nation, that the country needed a Fire Lord who would bring about peace and order.

So that’s it then.

Zuko’s going to be Fire Lord.

But where does that leave Sokka?

The answer terrifies him.

Zuko _knew_ that loving Sokka was opening himself up to the inevitable day when Sokka would leave, taking Zuko’s heart with him wherever he went. But in that moment in the tent, with Sokka’s blue eyes watching him, Zuko chose Sokka anyway, because he would _always_ choose Sokka. He thinks it now like he had back then: _that was always part of the plan_. 

It seems that in the end, choosing Sokka won’t have been enough, not if Zuko’s future entails becoming the monarch of a war-torn nation. Zuko would choose Sokka, but would Sokka choose him? Would Sokka willingly choose that life for himself?

If Zuko doesn’t want it, he can’t imagine why Sokka would. Zuko supposes that’s answer enough.

Sokka pulls Zuko closer, and this time, Zuko can’t hold back his sharp intake of breath, a wince, the flinch away from the rub of Sokka’s warrior outfit against the raw skin of his chest. Sokka moves away instantly, holding Zuko at arm’s length, studying his face intently.

“Are you okay? What–” Sokka’s eyes flicker down in a cursory glance. His gaze snags on the burnt edges of his tunic, the blistering skin in the middle of his chest, and his eyes go wide. “ _Zuko._ Tui and La, what happened?” Sokka’s hand reaches out, fingers hesitating before they draw back, looking up at Zuko with worried eyes.

“Azula, she…” Zuko looks over to Katara, who’s still holding both Toph and Suki close like she doesn’t realize she’s doing it. “She got a lucky shot in.”

“You need to lay down. How are you even standing up?”

Zuko pulls in a rattling breath. “You, mostly.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be leaning on the guy with the broken leg. That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

Zuko’s hand clenches where he’s clutching Sokka’s bicep. “What happened to _you?_ ”

Sokka grins sheepishly, but there’s something haunted and distant in his usually clear blue eyes. “Fell off an airship.”

“Agni, Sokka. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Sokka looks away, swallowing thickly. “We won. That’s the important thing. I’ll… I’ll be fine.”

Zuko slides his hand over Sokka’s shoulder, up to cradle his jaw. “Sokka. Look at me.”

Sokka blinks, taking a few breaths before meeting Zuko’s gaze evenly.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay. It seems like you had a rough go of it. Yes, we won, but that doesn’t mean that you have to be good right away.” Zuko takes Sokka’s hand in his own, pressing it to his heart, carefully avoiding the spidery tendrils of his marred chest. “Just… breathe. I’m here.”

Sokka nods, eyes suddenly shiny with unshed tears. “You’re here. I’m here.” A moment passes where Zuko thinks that might be the end of it, but then Sokka presses on, his voice thick. “There was a minute where I didn’t think I was going to see you again. I thought it was the end of the road. Toph’s fingers were slipping, and–” he cuts himself off, wolf tail bobbing as he shakes his head. The tears finally fall, tracking down his cheeks. When Zuko wipes them away, remnants of soot and dirt come along with it.

Zuko pays it no mind, leaning in to kiss the edge of Sokka’s cheekbone, right where the first tear fell. He doesn’t know quite what to say, so he says nothing. He presses his forehead into Sokka’s and hopes that being here with Sokka and holding him in his arms will be enough, at least for now.

* * *

Somehow, they make it to the infirmary. Zuko accredits it largely to the way Suki carries Sokka all the way there on her back while Katara fits herself snugly under Zuko’s arm, walking with him down the empty hallways of the palace.

Zuko has to keep on yelling ahead to Suki that she’s going the wrong way, watching her and Sokka disappear around a corner only to race across going the opposite direction. Zuko would tell them to slow down, but the sound of Sokka’s laughter echoing off the walls is infinitely better than the sound of him trying to hold back his sobs.

Sokka’s the first one to collapse on an infirmary bed, his leg propped up on multiple pillows. He shuffles over in the hopes that Katara will deposit Zuko next to him, but she skirts right past him to lay Zuko gently on the empty bed beside Sokka’s.

Zuko tries to get comfortable, wincing as he shifts, letting out a ragged breath. He must not look very good, because Katara has her flask open and water coalescing around her hands in an instant.

“I didn’t get a chance to finish, earlier,” she says, sitting down beside him. “Here, let me…”

Zuko can’t stop the sigh from escaping at the first touch of the cool water against his burning skin, but still, he says, “Katara, you don’t have to–”

She glares at him. Zuko shuts his mouth.

“Besides,” Katara continues. “It’s the least I can do, after–”

Zuko coughs abruptly, probably louder than he needs to, and the wide-eyed look he sends Katara is not subtle in the slightest. She raises an eyebrow.

“After what?” Sokka asks.

“Yeah, tell us what happened, Sparky,” Toph adds. She comes to sit next to Sokka, scooting all the way up so she’s pressed against his hip. It’s only then that the tension in her shoulders seems to ease, turning to Zuko expectantly.

Zuko hesitates, but ultimately decides to tell them. It’s slow going, and he has to pause every so often to catch his breath, but he manages to get the words out. Once he gets to the part where Azula had turned to Katara, grin sharp and eyes wild, he has to let out a long breath before finishing the story.

“ _Zuko_ ,” Sokka whispers, sounding overcome with emotion.

Slowly, Zuko meets his gaze. Love and affection are clear on Sokka’s face, and he looks pained that he can’t touch Zuko. He shifts as far as he can to the edge of the bed, holding out his hand for Zuko to take. Katara sighs long-sufferingly but makes no move to stop Zuko from reaching back. It pulls his chest more than he finds strictly comfortable, but nothing—absolutely _nothing_ —could stop Zuko from lacing their fingers together and squeezing tight.

Katara picks up the story from there, filling in the blanks of time that Zuko spent sprawled across the ground in agony, fading in and out of consciousness.

“I healed him as best I could,” Katara finishes. “And then you guys showed up. You know the rest.”

“Are you going to tell us what happened on your end?” Zuko asks.

The question is directed more towards Sokka, but Suki is the one who answers. “Well, we–”

“Maybe you can tell the story tomorrow,” Toph interrupts, voice tight and uncharacteristically brittle.

Suki doesn’t look surprised or upset by the interruption, simply laying a hand on Toph’s shoulder and squeezing gently. “No problem, Toph. Tomorrow it is.”

“Thanks,” Toph says quietly. Her face is turned down, hidden in shadow. Sokka curls his free hand around Toph’s wrist and she immediately covers it with her own. Zuko can see her fingertips turning white where she clutches the back of Sokka’s hand.

It’s quiet for a long time after that. Suki sits down at the foot of Zuko’s bed, pulling her knees up under her chin. Toph leans into Sokka’s hip, refusing to let go his hand. Katara continues healing Zuko’s chest, so he tries to focus on his breathing, squeezing Sokka’s fingers whenever it becomes too much.

He must squeeze harder than he thinks, because then Sokka is speaking up, breaking the silence.

“Not that I don’t love the fact that you’re healing my boyfriend, Katara,” Sokka begins. Warmth spreads through Zuko’s limbs at the term, much like every other time Sokka’s referred to him as such. “But why don’t you come heal my leg?”

“The bone is broken, Sokka,” she replies, not unkindly. “That’s beyond my capabilities. You’d need a bonebender, not a water healer.”

“Oh,” Sokka says, like he’d never thought about it that way. “Well, that sucks. Where am I supposed to find a bonebender?”

Toph lifts her head, a sly smirk growing on her face. “I could take a whack at it.”

Sokka’s eyes grow wide. “Uh, you know, on second thought–”

Toph lets out a bark of laughter, and Zuko notices the way Sokka instantly relaxes at the sound of it. “Don’t worry, Snoozles,” she says, patting Sokka’s hand. “Your bones are safe.”

Sokka smiles. “Glad to hear it,” he murmurs, eyes softening, and Zuko doesn’t think he’s referring to only Toph’s words.

Zuko wonders what the three of them went through on those airships, what had prompted Sokka to apparently fall off one of them, and what Sokka meant when he said that Toph’s fingers were slipping.

 _Tomorrow,_ he thinks, eyes falling shut. Zuko’s going to enjoy being surrounded by his friends, for however long it might last.

* * *

Except tomorrow comes and goes, sliding into next week, which slips into the week after.

That’s not to say that he and Sokka don’t see each other or find time to talk. They talk.

Sokka finally tells him what happened on the airship one night when they’re both alone in the infirmary, Zuko holding Sokka close while he mumbles into his shoulder. Zuko can’t imagine what it must have felt like at the end, when all they could do was hope for the best and watch the orange light slowly overtake the blue. From the way Sokka recounts the story, hushed and profound, he knows it must have been terrifying. Zuko comforts him the only way he knows how, the way that Sokka taught him, with close contact and tender touches, gently holding each him in the dark.

They talk. But they don’t talk about _them,_ about what happens now. Sokka knows that Zuko is going to be Fire Lord, so the question lies with Sokka. And Zuko _knows_ that Sokka wants to talk. He can see it in the way that Sokka will try to catch his eye from across the room, or from the way his touch will linger on Zuko’s arm a beat too long. He can hear it in the way Sokka says his name, hesitant, like he knows that Zuko won’t like what he says after.

Zuko knows he’s prolonging the inevitable, but he doesn’t want to know what Sokka’s going to say. He doesn’t want Sokka to tell him that he’s leaving, to hold out a hand and ask for his necklace back.

_I love you, but it’s not enough._

_I love you, but I can’t stay._

_I love you, but I have to leave._

So he avoids the looks, the touches, the hesitant whispers of his name. He hates himself for doing it, because if Sokka’s going to leave, they should be spending what little time they have left together. But he can’t stop himself from refusing to meet Sokka’s eye, or subtly edging his arm out of Sokka’s grip, or changing the subject. Zuko can see the hurt in Sokka’s expression whenever he does it because it’s hurting him too, but he’s only trying to protect himself from the inevitability of Sokka breaking his heart.

Zuko wants things to go back to the way things were, back to the tent with the rose petals and candles, to a time when he and Sokka were happy and sickeningly in love. Back to a time where he didn’t have the crushing responsibility of being Fire Lord.

The Fire Sages want a quick coronation. They keep on pestering Zuko about when he’ll be ready to assume the throne, about coronation robe measurements, about what he’s going to say in his speech. One time Katara’s with him, sitting on the edge of his infirmary bed, and they ask her when his chest will be healed enough to walk across the stage confidently.

Katara is silent for a long time, looking between the Sages and Zuko until her lack of response finally makes the Sages huff and leave without further comment. Zuko can’t help the way he sinks back into the bed, sighing deeply in relief as they disappear. He still hasn’t given them a direct answer to any of their questions, and it’s only a matter of time before they force one out of him. The thought of the coronation date being set makes him feel heavy in a way he’s never quite felt before, like he could melt into this bed and never leave.

Katara narrows her eyes at him, lips turned down in a way that makes her look alarmingly like Sokka when he’s analyzing something. Zuko smooths out his expression the best he can, trying to push warmth to his face where he’s sure it went pale the moment the Fire Sages stepped into view. For a moment, he thinks she might say something, but then she’s picking up their conversation right where it left off as if they were never interrupted.

Zuko tries to pay attention to what she’s saying, but all he can think about is how much he’s going to miss her once she’s gone.

* * *

Zuko blinks his eyes open in the dead of night to an empty room. Sokka had stopped sleeping in the infirmary with him—Zuko isn’t sure exactly when, but it must have been sometime between Zuko dodging his gaze and stepping out from his touches.

(No—Zuko knows exactly when Sokka began sleeping elsewhere. They’d been laying together in bed, and Zuko hadn’t been meeting his eye, trying to steer the conversation from anywhere but _them,_ from the _future._ Sokka had finally grabbed his newly fashioned crutch with a huff. In his other hand, he’d taken his pillow from his own bed and stalked off.

Zuko had watched, resigned, as Sokka turned to face him before he stepped out of the doorway. If Sokka was trying to tell him something, Zuko wouldn’t have known from the look on his face, brow furrowed and expression completely unreadable.

When he’d left, Zuko had felt an inexplicable urge to follow him, as if Sokka were a current that Zuko was hopelessly lost in. Nevertheless, Zuko stayed.)

Zuko’s right ear is pressed into his pillow, so he can’t hear what’s woken him, but he doesn’t need to. He knows it’s Sokka, can feel him sneaking into the infirmary behind him. _How_ exactly he knows it’s Sokka, he’s not sure, but when the bed dips near his feet and Sokka’s voice rings out into the night, Zuko isn’t surprised.

“I know you’re awake,” Sokka says.

Zuko blinks, keeping his breaths even, wondering if Sokka had been bluffing.

Sokka’s weight doesn’t shift or waver. A sigh, and then, “Can we talk?”

Zuko squeezes his eyes shut. That is the _very_ last thing he wants to do, but he doesn’t know how much longer he can deal with this constant pain in his chest, the relentless heartache. Better to get it over with, probably.

Zuko rolls over to meet Sokka’s gaze in what feels like the first time in forever. He’d be glad that Sokka’s expression is no longer so frustratingly blank if it weren’t for the sad, lost look in the reflection of his eyes.

Spirits, Zuko _hates_ that he’s the reason Sokka’s looking at him like that.

“Yeah,” Zuko whispers. “We can talk.”

He refuses to have this conversation while he’s lying down—it feels like that’s all he’s been doing recently, so he moves to sit up. Katara’s been coming in to heal his chest almost every day, but he still can’t hold back his wince as he pushes himself into a sitting position.

Sokka reaches out as if to help him up, but stops himself at the last moment, his hands frozen in midair. Slowly, he drops them back into his lap, looking unsure.

Zuko can’t take it anymore.

“Agni, Sokka, please don’t look like that.”

Sokka looks up, expression suddenly guarded. “Look like what?”

“Like you’re–” Zuko makes a frustrated sound, shuffling closer to Sokka so he can take Sokka’s hands in his own. “Like you’re not allowed to touch me.”

Sokka squeezes his fingers weakly. “Am I? Allowed to touch you? It doesn’t seem like it, recently.”

Zuko sighs shakily, looking away. “I deserve that.”

“Yeah,” Sokka agrees, “you do. Are you going to tell me why you’ve been acting weird lately? I thought for a while that you were trying to break up with me, but you’re still wearing my necklace, so…”

“What?” Zuko asks incredulously. His hand flies to Sokka’s choker, which still rests against his throat, cool and heavy. “ _No_. I would never take it off. I was just… I…”

Every explanation that comes to mind sounds stupid now that he’s trying to put it in words.

Zuko steels himself. If they’re finally going to talk, then they’re going to _talk._ About everything. “We never talked about what would happen if we won the war. We never discussed the future. We were too caught up in the moment, I guess, and… that’s on both of us.”

“Yeah,” Sokka says. “But after, I _tried_ –”

“I know,” Zuko replies hastily. “I know you did. I didn’t want to hear it.”

Sokka looks stricken, jerking back as if he’s been slapped. “You didn’t want to–”

Zuko shakes his head, shifting impossibly closer so their legs are pressed right up against each other. He grips Sokka’s hands tightly.

“Sokka, just—listen to me. For a moment. Okay?”

Sokka nods wordlessly.

“I have to be Fire Lord soon. And… well, back in the tent, when you asked me to be your boyfriend and I said yes, we didn’t exactly talk about this. I knew it might be a possibility, but I didn’t want to think about it, especially not then. And then we just… never talked about it. But then we won the war. And everything that we didn’t talk about suddenly became a lot more important.”

Zuko takes a deep breath, sorting his thoughts and deciding how to word the next bit. Sokka stays silent while Zuko works through it, hands warm where they hold Zuko’s.

“Spirits, Sokka, I was _scared._ I didn’t want to talk because I didn’t want you to tell me you were leaving. I didn’t want you to…” Zuko sighs. “I didn’t want you to ask for your necklace back. I realize now that was selfish. I should’ve talked to you. I’m sorry.”

“You should’ve,” Sokka agrees. “You really worried me, you know? I thought—well. I thought you’d gotten bored of me. I thought maybe you didn’t love me anymore.”

“ _No,_ ” Zuko says, shaking his head firmly, squeezing Sokka’s fingers tight. “Of course not. I _love_ you. I’m… I’m _always_ going to love you.”

“You can’t know that,” Sokka whispers.

“I do.” Zuko wishes he could somehow show Sokka exactly how he feels, let him see the inner workings of his heart so Sokka would know that it continues to beat for him and him only. He settles on raising a hand to Sokka’s jaw, tilting it so Sokka finally has to look up, blue eyes meeting gold. “I love you. Like, scary amounts.”

Sokka’s eyes fall close for a brief moment as he lets out a breath of laughter, the corner of his lips curling upwards. Zuko’s chest swells as Sokka leans into the hand still cupping his jaw before pressing a gentle kiss to Zuko’s palm. For the first time in weeks, the ache in the space between Zuko’s ribs dissipates.

“I love you too,” Sokka says.

Zuko falls forward then, hand moving to the back of Sokka’s neck to tug him closer into a hug.

“Your chest,” Sokka protests weakly.

“I don’t care.”

Sokka goes easily, arms wrapping around Zuko’s back, face pressed into his neck. He holds himself stiffly at first, but when Zuko makes no wounded noises, he sinks into the embrace. Zuko rubs Sokka’s back, cheek pressed against the sleeve of Sokka’s tunic. 

Zuko wants to stay in Sokka’s arms for the rest of forever, but–

“This doesn’t change anything.”

Sokka pulls back. “What do you mean?”

“I— _Sokka._ I’m going to be Fire Lord.”

“Oh,” Sokka says. “Right.”

“Yeah. _Oh._ ”

Sokka looks away, brows pulled down thoughtfully. Zuko holds his breath.

Turns out that no amount of preparation could have prepared Zuko for what comes out of Sokka’s mouth next.

“Do you even _want_ to be Fire Lord?”

Zuko flounders. “I—what—but–”

Sokka raises his eyebrows, waiting for a response.

“It’s not about _wanting_ to be Fire Lord, Sokka,” Zuko says finally, exasperated. “You heard my uncle. I’m the only one who can restore honour to the Fire Nation.”

“That’s bisonshit,” Sokka replies instantly.

Zuko gapes at him, stunned silent.

Sokka seems to notice, backtracking slightly. “That’s not to say that you wouldn’t be an amazing Fire Lord! You’d be a great leader, Zuko, seriously. But you’re only seventeen. I think you should have a say in what you want to do for the rest of your life. So, yes or no. Do you want to be Fire Lord?”

Sokka’s watching him like he already knows the answer. It feels unbelievably easy for Zuko to open his mouth and say, “No. I don’t.”

Sokka nods, blowing out a breath. “Okay. Then what do you want to do instead?”

Zuko looks away sharply, pressing his lips together. To make Zuko think about a future with Sokka when he _knows_ it won’t be possible seems suddenly too cruel for his fragile heart. “Sokka, I can’t–”

“You _can._ You just need to say it.”

Zuko knows he can’t. But when he meets Sokka’s eyes, blue and honest, all he wants to do is believe that Sokka is someone he can have forever.

“I want _you._ I want to be with you. I want to travel. I want to see your home. I want to—spirits, I don’t know. I just want to be with you. Wherever you are is where I want to be.”

“ _Zuko_ ,” Sokka groans, leaning forward to crash their mouths together, kissing him hard. “You can’t just _say_ things like that.”

“Sorry,” Zuko says with a sheepish grin. “Was that too much?”

“No,” Sokka says. “It was perfect.” He presses one last kiss to Zuko’s lips before sitting back. “What if I told you I could make all that happen?”

Zuko stares. How is Sokka in such a good mood right now? Their relationship is doomed to fail, yet Sokka is sitting here telling him otherwise. Why isn’t Sokka _getting it?_

“I’d tell you that it’s impossible.”

“Why?”

Zuko throws his hands up into the air, gesturing to everything around them. “I’m going to be _Fire Lord!_ Things aren’t going to end in a happily ever after like you seem to think! Life isn’t like one of your inventions that you can bend to your will.”

Sokka watches him silently as if he knows that Zuko isn’t done. And he’s right—Zuko isn’t.

“After the coronation, I’ll make sure that you and your family can take one of the Fire Nation ships back to the Southern Water Tribe.” Zuko forces the words out, even though they make him feel hollow inside. “Everyone will go home. And I’ll–” his breath hitches, voice quieting. “I’ll be Fire Lord.”

Now Sokka just looks confused. “You know you don’t _have_ to be Fire Lord, right?”

“What are you talking about?” Zuko asks like Sokka is the dumbest person on earth. “Of course I have to be Fire Lord.”

“No,” Sokka replies calmly. “You really don’t.”

Zuko makes a frustrated sound low in his throat. “Sokka, I wish you’d stop trying to—I don’t know, make me feel better? It’s only making me feel worse. Stop trying to make me think this is something I can _have._ ”

“It _is,_ Zuko,” Sokka says. “You can have me.”

“I can’t!”

“You _can!_ ”

“How do you know?”

“Because I talked to Iroh!”

Sokka’s eyes widen, jaw clacking shut like he hadn’t been meaning to reveal so much.

“You _what?_ ”

“I–” Sokka pushes a hand through his hair so it’s out of his face. When he speaks again, it’s softer, a far cry from their near shouting match a moment earlier. “I talked to Iroh.”

“When?”

“Before the five of us split up at the White Lotus camp.”

Zuko is almost afraid to ask. “What did you talk about?”

“You,” Sokka says with a quiet laugh. “See, I understood his whole argument about how Aang had to be the one to defeat the Fire Lord. It was a stupid argument, but I got where he was coming from.” He sighs. “But then he said that thing about how _only you_ could be Fire Lord. Put a seventeen-year-old who knows nothing about how to rule a country on the throne after a century-long war while he plays pai sho at his tea shop? Absolutely not. It makes no sense.” Sokka shakes his head, then shrugs. “So I told him that.”

“You didn’t.”

When Sokka meets Zuko’s gaze there’s a spark in his eye, something hard, almost belligerent. “You bet I did.”

“ _Sokka._ ”

“Zuko, he’s your uncle. He’s an _adult. He_ should be the Fire Lord.”

“That wouldn’t work, he–”

“It would work perfectly fine. He wasn’t the one to defeat Ozai, so why can’t he be Fire Lord after?”

“Because it has to be _me._ ”

“Why does it have to be you?”

“I don’t know!” Zuko exclaims. “Because… Because I forged a path for myself, or whatever. You heard what Uncle said.”

“I did. And Zuko, I saw the look on your face when he said it. You think I didn’t notice? I _know_ you. I know that the thought of being Fire Lord terrifies you. Even Katara mentioned it to me a couple of days ago. I just—I wish you would’ve talked to me about it.”

“I’m s–”

“I know,” Sokka says. “I know you are.” He reaches out, taking Zuko’s hands in his once more. “Next time, I hope you know that you can talk to me. About anything.” After a deep breath, Sokka meets his gaze evenly. “Please don’t leave me in the dark. My mind goes dangerous places.”

Zuko squeezes Sokka’s fingers, leaning in to press their foreheads against each other. They breathe together, in and out. Eventually, Zuko says, “I know. And I will. I promise.”

“Good,” Sokka whispers.

After a moment, Zuko asks, “So what did he say?”

“What?” Sokka says, sitting back.

“When you confronted Uncle about him being Fire Lord. What did he say?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I _confronted_ him,” Sokka replies, then winces. “Okay, maybe I would. But I don’t really know. Something about tea and hope and honour that I didn’t understand.”

Zuko nods, all too familiar with his uncle’s strange proverbs. Something like relief had started to seep into his bones as Sokka talked— _could Uncle really be Fire Lord?_ —but with Sokka’s words comes a deep dread. It’s worse than before, because now he knows that Sokka still loves him and wants to be with him. But what’s it going to mean for their relationship if Zuko is destined to be the ruler of the Fire Nation?

“He sent me a letter.”

Zuko’s gaze snaps to Sokka’s. “What? When? What did he write?”

A small smile tugs at Sokka’s lips. That’s got to be a good sign, right? “He’s coming to visit. He wants to talk to you.”

“Really?”

Sokka nods. “He wrote a bit about the conversation that we had, but it was mostly just that he was on his way to Caldera City and to make sure you weren’t coronated before he arrived.”

Zuko feels his eyes widen. “Does that mean…?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

“Me too,” Zuko whispers. Here, sitting with Sokka in the dark of the infirmary, the quiet admission doesn’t make him feel as guilty as he thought it would. With every word Sokka’s been saying, Zuko’s realized just how much he doesn’t know. In such a short time span, Sokka has flipped everything he thought he knew inside out and upside down. “You’re right.”

Sokka frowns. “Right about what?”

“About everything,” Zuko says. “I _am_ terrified about being Fire Lord.”

Sokka raises a hand to Zuko’s jaw, his palm warm against Zuko’s skin. The touch grounds him.

“Technically,” Zuko begins, “I’m next in line for the throne. I have a duty to the Fire Nation. I could make it a better place. I could make the _world_ a better place.” He pauses, swallowing thickly.

“But?” Sokka interjects softly.

“ _But_ … You’re right. I’m only seventeen. I thought that the throne, the crown, everything—I thought that’s what I wanted. But I don’t. I just–” he sighs, tilting his head down. Sokka moves to drop his hand back to his lap, but Zuko covers it with his own, keeping it pressed against his cheek. “I just want you. I want freedom. I want to _leave_. But only if that’s what you want too.”

“Yeah,” Sokka whispers, eyes bright in the dark of the room. “I want that.”

Zuko lets the barest of smiles pull at the corner of his lips. “It’d be nice, huh?”

“It would. It _will._ ”

Sokka sounds so sure, but Zuko just thinks, _If only it were possible_.

With Uncle’s impending arrival, maybe it will be.

* * *

It’s the first time Zuko’s been back in his room in a long while. Katara had been telling him not to push himself too hard, that what he needed most was time to rest, but he’s running out of clothes.

He kind of needs clean clothes.

He’s sure that someone would have gotten them and brought them to the infirmary if he asked, which is why he’s here by himself. The past few weeks have been excruciating, completely at the mercy of others, unable to do anything himself as he recovered. He felt okay this morning, his chest only betraying the slightest ache and twinge as he moved. Regret fills him now at the end of his journey, laying on the foot of his bed, trying to catch his breath and ward off the chill in the air.

After what feels like an eternity, he struggles to a sitting position and then immediately jolts to his feet when the skin of his chest pinches agonizingly. He’s leaning against the bedpost, breathing heavily, when a familiar voice rings out.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the infirmary?”

Zuko’s head turns so quickly his neck clicks.

“But then again,” Uncle says with a smile, “when have you been very good at doing what you’re told?”

“Uncle,” Zuko breathes.

“Prince Zuko. It’s good to see you.”

Zuko crosses the room quicker than he probably should, but Uncle is holding out his arms and Zuko is helpless to fall into them, hugging him tight. “It’s good to see you too. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Uncle replies regretfully as he pulls back.

“I’m fine,” Zuko says instantly.

Uncle watches him knowingly until Zuko eventually has to look away.

“Well,” Zuko says quietly. “I guess I could be better.”

Iroh steers Zuko gently back to the foot of his bed, making sure Zuko doesn’t pull his chest as he lowers himself before he sits down right beside him. “Would you like to tell me about it?”

Slowly, Zuko starts to nod. After so long of keeping his fears to himself, finally sharing with Sokka had been really nice. It made him feel lighter than he had in a long time, so maybe he can keep the trend going.

“I feel like I’m being pulled in so many different directions, thinking one thing and being told another. What I want and what I should do couldn’t be more different. I don’t know what to do.” With a sigh, Zuko finishes with, “I could really use your advice, Uncle.”

Iroh sits with him for a long while, a comforting presence at his side. Eventually, he tilts his head, clasping his hands in his lap before speaking. “When you’re young, you assume old people know everything. When you’re old, you realize just how little you really know. We learn things our entire lives. I’m still learning things every day.”

Zuko squints. What is his uncle trying to tell him? “I don’t understand.”

“Let me be more specific. I have always tried to be an optimistic and hopeful person, but war made me a realist. A pessimist, on bad days. What you want to do versus what you have to do… I assume this has to do with you being Fire Lord?”

Zuko hesitates, letting out a long breath. “Yes.”

Iroh hums. “When I was talking to you kids at the White Lotus camp, I truly believed that you were the best hope for the country. I thought there was no way the Fire Nation could begin to repair itself without that. Without _you_. But the nation is already healing.”

His uncle has an uncanny knack for saying so much without saying anything at all. It had been useful sometimes throughout their travels, but mostly it just frustrated him. It frustrates him now, but he tries to listen and understand what he’s saying. “Okay…”

“You know how proud I am of you, Zuko. I know you would make an incredible leader. But now that the war is won and we’re living in the aftermath, I think we can wait a few more years before you show that to the rest of the world.”

Zuko’s gaze snaps to his uncle, who is still watching his hands like they hold the answers to the universe. Hope starts to claw its way out of his heart and into his chest, working up until it forms a lump in his throat.

“What are you saying?” Zuko asks, barely audible, because he needs to know.

“I’m saying…” Iroh sighs, finally meeting Zuko’s eye with a soft smile. “I’m saying that you don’t have to be Fire Lord. I’m not even sure we need a Fire Lord, to be honest. The choice is yours, Zuko, but you need to know that it is truly a choice. If you choose what you want rather than what you feel like you have to do, I will take the throne. You will be free to do as you please.”

Breathless is the only word Zuko could use to describe how he feels right now. He doesn’t have to be Fire Lord? He has a choice?

He can choose _Sokka?_

Zuko can hardly believe it.

“What made you change your mind?” Zuko asks.

After a long silence, Uncle answers his question with one of his own. “Do you remember that one night in Ba Sing Se when I came home long after dark?”

Of course Zuko does. He thought his uncle had been discovered by the Dai Li and imprisoned. He’d been about to don his blue spirit mask before he’d remembered what exactly the day meant to his uncle.

“Yes,” he says.

“It was Lu Ten’s birthday. He would have been 27 this year.”

Zuko knew this, of course, but it doesn’t stop him from closing his eyes briefly, tilting his head down. Sometimes he forgets that Lu Ten had barely been nineteen—only a couple of years older than Zuko is now—when he’d died in the Siege of Ba Sing Se. Much too young to be leading a military force, though Zuko figures that his quick promotions could be explained by the fact that Lu Ten was second in line to the Fire Nation throne.

Iroh continues a moment later, voice quiet and somewhat distant. “He had been so young. I don’t think I truly realized how young he was when he died. That day in Ba Sing Se, all I could think about was how I hadn’t been there for him. I should have helped him. If I could go back, I would dissuade him from joining the military altogether.”

Zuko sits and listens attentively. Iroh doesn’t often talk about Lu Ten; he knows better than to interrupt his uncle when he’s answering his question, albeit in a convoluted and roundabout way.

“I stand by my decision of Aang needing to be the one to defeat the Fire Lord. It was his destiny, just as my own was liberating Ba Sing Se. When I told you that only you could be Fire Lord after the war was won, I thought that I was helping you. Giving you a purpose. I know how much you appreciate looking towards the future. You’ve always liked having a goal. I was convinced that I was doing what was best for you. What was best for the nation.

“But as I and the White Lotus members were leaving Ba Sing Se, we walked right by that tree I sat before on Lu Ten’s birthday. I felt struck, as if by lightning, by the realization that I was about to let you fall prey to Fire Nation customs just as I had Lu Ten. I wasn’t able to help my son, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least try to help you.

“And,” Iroh says warmly, looking over to Zuko with a twinkle in his eye, “Sokka was quite persuasive.” His gaze flickers down to Zuko’s neck for barely a second before settling back on his face. “He seems like a very nice young man.”

It’s enough for warmth to flood his cheeks, but Zuko refuses to look away. “He is. Nice, that is.”

Iroh hums, still smiling gently—proudly. It makes Zuko’s chest feel odd, but not in a bad way. “If it’s between what you want to do and what you feel like you should do, I have an inkling that I already know your decision.”

Zuko touches the smooth whalebone that rests against his throat. “I… I love him, Uncle. And I know he loves me too. He’s good for me.”

“Yes,” Iroh agrees. “I think he will be.”

But still, despite the hope and relief coursing through his veins, Zuko feels the need to ask. “About you being Fire Lord… are you sure?”

Uncle meets his gaze evenly, solidly. “I’m sure, Prince Zuko. My wish for you, above all else, is that you are happy. If that means I take the throne, then it would be my honour to do so.”

Zuko can’t stop the broad smile that overtakes his face before he throws his arms around Iroh and hugs him tight, the twinge in his chest the least of his worries. “ _Thank you,_ Uncle. I—I don’t know what to say.”

“Your thanks is more than enough. As is your palpable relief.”

Zuko huffs out an embarrassed laugh as he pulls away. “Is it that obvious?”

Iroh only looks at him knowingly, which Zuko supposes is his nice way of saying _yes, absolutely._

“You should go talk to Sokka,” Uncle says. “Tell him the good news.”

“I— _yeah_ ,” Zuko says, mostly to himself.

Even now, it still doesn’t feel completely real. For so long, Zuko had been operating under the assumption that Sokka wasn’t someone he could have, at least not forever. But now… he can. He can choose Sokka. And he’s certain that Sokka will choose him, too.

The thought sends him rocketing to his feet. He can’t think of a single reason keeping him in this room when he needs to tell Sokka, he needs to tell him _now._

Before he can exit the room, he turns back to his uncle, who has gotten to his feet while Zuko’s been distracted. Zuko pulls him into a quick hug. “I love you, Uncle. Thank you. For everything.”

“Of course, nephew. I love you too.”

* * *

Zuko finds Sokka in the library, but it turns out he isn’t alone—Toph is with him. His back is to Zuko, so he doesn’t notice him immediately. Zuko stands in the entrance, taking a moment to watch him silently.

The windows along the west side of the room are arched and set deep into the wall. Long pillars of light stream through, stretching across the floor as the sun sinks towards the horizon. Sokka is tucked into one of those alcoves, his broken leg stretched out, the other propped up with a book resting against it.

Toph, who never seems to be too far away from Sokka these days, sits across from him in the space between the window and his outstretched leg. Her head rests against the wall behind her, eyes closed as she listens to Sokka read aloud, occasionally interrupting with her own commentary.

They’ve just finished a semi-heated debate prompted by one of Toph’s comments when she turns her head in Zuko’s direction and says, “You gonna stand there all day, Sparky?”

Sokka immediately looks over his shoulder and his face lights up as he spots Zuko standing in the doorway. “Zuko, hey!” His features immediately narrow into something more suspicious. “Are you supposed to be out of bed?”

Zuko smiles slightly, trying not to shift and give away just how uncomfortable he is. “Probably not.”

Sokka moves like he’s about to get up, saying, “You should–”

“You keep your butt right where it is, Snoozles,” Toph threatens, cutting him off. “Zuko probably just needs to sit down for a bit. Here.” She climbs over Sokka’s leg, taking care not to jostle it unnecessarily as she gets to her feet. She walks to Zuko’s side then drags him over to the alcove.

“Shuffle over,” she tells Sokka, then deposits Zuko directly next to him.

“Thanks, Toph,” Zuko says, leaning into Sokka gratefully. Sokka reaches over to rest his hand atop Zuko’s thigh, palm up. Sliding his hand into Sokka’s suddenly feels like the easiest thing Zuko’s ever done.

“No problem,” she replies. With a punch to Zuko’s shoulder that he doesn’t even try to hold back the wince for, she says, “Have fun, you two,” and walks off.

“You can stay,” Sokka calls out. “We still have a few pages left in the chapter.”

“That’s okay,” Toph says. “Let’s save it for another day. I have to go say hi to Uncle Iroh.”

“Wait, what?” Sokka exclaims at the same moment Zuko asks, “How’d you know he’s here?”

“You smell like ginseng,” Toph says like that’s answer enough to Zuko’s question, then leaves the library.

“Iroh’s here?” Sokka asks, turning to Zuko as Toph’s footsteps fade away. “His letter made it sound like he wouldn’t be here for another couple of days.”

“Yeah, I just talked to him.”

“You did?” Sokka’s eyes are wide and hopeful, but he’s quiet for a long moment, as if steeling himself for bad news. He swallows thickly. “What’d he say?”

Zuko’s honestly surprised he’s been able to keep a straight face for this long. A wide grin overtakes his face and he’s helpless to contain it. “He said that he wanted me to be happy. That I should choose the path that I wanted.”

Sokka’s lips part, but he still doesn’t say anything. It’s a rare moment to see Sokka lost for words. “So… that means…?”

“Uncle said he’ll be Fire Lord. I’m free to do whatever I wish.”

Sokka’s smile begins to mirror Zuko’s. “Yeah?”

Zuko nods. “Yeah.”

A rumbling groan tears itself from Sokka’s throat, his free hand coming up to grab the back of Zuko’s neck to pull him into a kiss. Zuko smiles into it, kissing him back slowly, happily. Here, in this moment, it seems like they have all the time in the world.

“So?” Zuko asks when he pulls away. They’re barely a breath apart. “What’s the plan?”

A slow, knowing grin spreads across Sokka’s face. There’s a glint in his eye that Zuko is all too familiar with. “Baby, I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

The moon is high in the sky and Zuko is back in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed. A bag of clothes rests next to him; years of travelling had made him a light packer, so the bag is small, hopefully small enough for whatever Sokka has planned.

Because Zuko still doesn’t know exactly what Sokka has planned.

“Wait for the signal and I’ll meet you after dark,” Sokka had said before pressing a quick kiss to Zuko’s lips and climbing to his feet, his crutch under one arm. “I have—things to do. People to talk to.” It was only by some stroke of luck that Sokka had remembered to call over his shoulder, “Oh! And pack a bag!” before limping away.

Zuko had considered following him and pestering him for more details, but he knew that despite Sokka choosing not to share the details with him, Sokka _did_ have a plan. That was enough for him.

Now, though, Zuko wishes he’d inquired as to what this so-called _signal_ was going to be. Is he in the right location? Is it something that Zuko will hear? Or will it be something he can see? It’s well after dark by now—had he missed the signal? Is Sokka waiting for him already?

Zuko’s close to tearing his hair out when he hears an odd clattering noise from behind him. When he looks over to the open window, he almost thinks he imagined it, but then he sees a flash of feathers and the reflection of moonlight off a bird’s beak. A messenger hawk sits on his windowsill, watching him intently. It’s not any messenger hawk either—it’s Hawky.

“Hello,” Zuko says softly to the bird, then holds out his arm.

Hawky flies over, gently clasping his talons around Zuko’s forearm as he lets out a quiet trill. Zuko takes a moment to card his fingers through the soft feathers along his head before zeroing in on the ribbon tied to the back of Hawky’s harness.

Was _this_ the signal Sokka had been talking about?

The canister is open before Zuko even registers moving. He unrolls the parchment, heart in his throat. A single line is inked into the paper in what is unmistakably Sokka’s handwriting.

_Meet me at your favourite noodle stand._

Zuko’s first feeling is confusion, because while Sokka definitely knows what Zuko’s favourite noodles are, he very much doubts that Sokka knows where the food stand is. After a moment, he lets it go, shaking his head while a smile tugs at his lips. Spirits, his boyfriend might be the most ridiculous person in the world. _Wait for the signal and I’ll meet you after dark._ Well, alright then.

“Thanks, Hawky,” Zuko says, folding the paper and slipping it into his pocket. The bird warbles softly as if to say _you’re welcome_ , then stretches his wings and takes off back through the open window. 

Zuko shrugs on a black overcoat, shapeless enough that it will help him remain anonymous as he makes his way into the city. Once he grabs his bag and turns up his hood, he makes his way through the empty halls of the palace, quiet and desolate.

Zuko had tried to find his friends before he’d started getting ready to leave—he wanted to let them know that he and Sokka were leaving and say goodbye, but he hadn’t been able to find any of them. It was kind of disconcerting, if he was being honest with himself. The palace had been uncharacteristically empty ever since Azula banished everyone before her coronation, and it had finally started to gain some life back with his friends’ bright smiles and laughter. He figures he could find them now—they’re probably in bed—but he doesn’t want to keep Sokka waiting.

He’d gone to see his uncle again before he left, because he couldn’t leave without properly saying goodbye. Iroh had hugged him tight, given him a confusing platitude when Zuko had told him about not being able to find his friends, and wished him well on his travels. The conversation was enough that as Zuko quietly makes his way outside, he barely feels any lingering guilt about not wanting to be Fire Lord. And when he thinks about his end destination, he can’t help but smile. Zuko knows that wherever Sokka strays, he’ll follow. He wouldn’t want it any other way.

When Zuko makes it to the gates, he takes a moment to look back at the royal palace. This place has never felt like home to him—he’s looking forward to finding one with Sokka. Finally, Zuko lets out a deep breath, disappearing through the palace gates and into the darkness.

* * *

Zuko finds Sokka at his favourite noodle stand, just like he had promised. The streets are dark and deserted, yet Sokka seems like a shining beacon where he’s leaning against the empty stand.

“Wait for the signal, huh?” Zuko says, stepping out of the shadows and pushing his hood off.

Sokka tenses at the sudden noise, but relaxes instantly once he sees that it’s only Zuko. He gives him a wry grin. “Well, you got the message, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

Zuko gestures towards the stand as he makes his way closer. “How’d you even know where this was?”

“Uh,” Sokka looks back at the stand, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. “I might have… gotten some help.”

Zuko rolls his eyes, realization dawning. “Uncle told you.”

Sokka grins sheepishly. “Maybe.”

“I should’ve guessed,” Zuko says with a shake of his head.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Sokka!”

“Well, how else would I have known? I haven’t really been in the capital before.”

Zuko narrows his eyes at Sokka, but he’s not actually upset. Knowing that Iroh was willing to help Sokka run away with Zuko is comforting, if not kind of funny.

“Well?” Zuko prompts. “Where are we off to?”

Sokka straightens, eyes glinting. “Great question.” He turns with the help of his crutch, tipping his head in the direction of the forest. “This way.”

Zuko frowns. “The docks are that way,” he says, pointing in the opposite direction that Sokka is leading them.

Sokka continues walking. “I know.”

It’s then that Zuko realizes Sokka isn’t carrying anything with him. “Where’s your bag?”

That makes Sokka stop, half turning back to Zuko. “What?”

“You told me to pack a bag,” he says, holding it up as proof.

Sokka smiles. “And so you did. Don’t worry, you’ll see. Come on.”

Despite his confusion, Zuko follows Sokka away from the switchbacks to the docks and towards the thick forest up ahead. Did Sokka hide his bags in the forest earlier and they have to go get them? Is his idea of running away actually just a camping trip in the woods? While Zuko can’t exactly parse out why they’re moving in the opposite direction they need to go to get off the island, he doesn’t ask any questions. He trusts Sokka, although the deeper into the forest they get, the more Zuko can’t help give Sokka the side eye.

“Are you sure you know where we’re going?” Zuko asks.

“I do, sweetheart. Thank you for asking.”

Zuko gives him a pointed look, but he isn’t sure Sokka is paying attention to him. They’re on rougher terrain now—Sokka is keeping a careful eye where he’s putting his crutch, lest he trip over an exposed tree root. Zuko also hovers nearby, but he privately thinks that if Sokka falls and he tries to catch him, they’re both going to go toppling. He’s already feeling the effects of his jaunt through the city. His chest aches.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Sokka says, and oh, maybe he was paying closer attention than Zuko thought. “We’re almost there.”

Sokka’s right—it’s barely been five minutes before Sokka is slowing to a stop right in front of a thick wall of branches.

“Alright,” he says. “Ready?”

Zuko wants to say something snarky, but then he catches the almost nervous look on Sokka’s face and stops himself. “Yeah,” he replies.

Sokka nods, as if to himself. “Okay.” Under his breath, he whispers, “Here goes nothing,” then pushes the branches out of the way, leading Zuko into a large clearing.

At first, Zuko isn’t sure what Sokka’s been leading him to, but then he sees Appa’s familiar furry body laying in the grass. Zuko’s immediate thought is that Sokka is borrowing Appa from Aang to make a quicker getaway, but then he sees that Toph is tucked into the crook between Appa’s legs, arms behind her head, feet flat on the ground. Aang sits atop Appa’s head and waves excitedly when he sees them.

“You made it!” Aang exclaims.

“Took you long enough,” Toph remarks, getting to her feet and wiping away nonexistent dirt from her sleeves.

At that, two heads pop over the edge of Appa’s carrier—Katara and Suki.

“Finally,” Katara says with a roll of her eyes, but she’s looking at them both fondly.

“Aang was about to go looking for you two,” Suki giggles from behind her hand.

“I was not!” Aang objects, and they all devolve into bickering that Zuko has no interest in following.

Zuko turns to Sokka, mouth agape. “You planned this.”

“Well, I’m not known as the plan guy for nothing,” Sokka replies with a smirk.

Zuko shakes his head at Sokka fondly. “I can’t believe you. Sokka, this is–”

He finds he can’t finish the sentence, the breath stolen straight from his lungs. How can he properly convey just how grateful he is to Sokka for all that he’s done for him? Sokka _knew_ that he could have taken one of Zuko’s ships home to the Southern Water Tribe with his family, but instead he had stayed to sort things out in the Fire Nation before bringing Zuko with him. Before bringing _all of them_ with him.

“I’m sorry,” Sokka says. His worry is evident in his tone and in the crease between his eyebrows. “I know I implied it would only be us when we talked in the infirmary, but–”

“I love you,” Zuko blurts out, because he can’t hold it in anymore.

“I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t—wait, what?”

Zuko's smile grows tenfold. “I love you.”

“Oh.” Sokka’s stunned expression melts into something softer. “I love you too.”

“This is—spirits, Sokka, it’s perfect. It’s everything I didn’t know I wanted.”

Sokka blinks, hope bleeding into those blue irises. “Yeah?”

Zuko nods, stepping confidently into Sokka’s space. He’s careful not to knock him too off balance as he slides both palms onto either side of Sokka’s face, pulling him into a long, deep kiss. Sokka kisses him back, one arm snaking around Zuko’s back to tug him closer.

Zuko thinks he hears a wolf whistle from behind them. A moment later, he’s pretty sure Katara asks, “Why did I agree to this, again?”

Sokka pulls away with a breathless laugh, but ducks back in to press one, two, three more kisses to Zuko’s lips before putting some distance between them. “So this is okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Zuko confirms. “Let’s go travel the world with our friends.”

Sokka gives him an easy grin. “First stop, the Southern Water Tribe.”

After taking a deep inhale and releasing it slowly, Sokka’s shoulders relax. He meets Zuko’s gaze, watching him carefully. Slowly, he lifts his hand towards Zuko, palm up, fingers outstretched.

Zuko considers the gesture. If Zuko takes Sokka’s hand, that’s it. His future of being Fire Lord that he’s been planning for the better half of his life will be over.

But Zuko had never wanted that future to begin with. He’d come to terms with it because he knew it was his duty to inherit the throne and rule the Fire Nation, but with Iroh coming home and agreeing to wear the crown in Zuko’s absence, Zuko had been given permission to leave. He was able to do whatever he wished, to do what made him happy.

Going with Sokka will make him happy, Zuko knows. He thought that taking Sokka’s hand would wreck his plans, but maybe that isn’t quite right. Maybe this was the plan from the very beginning.

Not too long ago, Zuko remembers questioning if Sokka would choose Zuko the way Zuko would choose him, and he feels silly now for even wondering. _Of course_ Sokka would. As he tears his gaze away from Sokka’s hand, he guesses that he should have known Sokka would choose him simply from that look on his face, the one that clearly shows his happiness, excitement, hope, and overwhelming love—it’s one that Zuko’s seen many times since their night in the tent, and plenty of times before.

So Zuko chooses Sokka, just like Sokka has chosen him countless times over. Zuko knew he would, like Sokka knew he would, like _fate_ knew they would, because after all, the spirits were the ones to write their love into the stars two billion years ago to begin with.

_That was always part of the plan._

_They_ were always part of the plan.

Easy as anything, Zuko slips his hand into Sokka’s. “Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked this story, you might like a similar one I wrote that was inspired by 'peace' by Taylor Swift. You can find it here: [i could (never) give you peace](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25593343).
> 
> There's a tumblr post you can reblog for this story [here](https://zukkababey.tumblr.com/post/641669998443724800/id-a-screenshot-from-the-show-avatar-the-last)!
> 
> You can also check out my tumblr [@zukkababey](https://zukkababey.tumblr.com/) for more zukka content 😊


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